


An Exercise in Futility

by Lady Of Justice (alycakeisdelish)



Category: League of Legends
Genre: Do not expect new lore references from me for either character, F/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Old Lore, Rough Sex, This is before League Universe or anything like that, Violence, We old school
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-03
Updated: 2019-01-03
Packaged: 2019-10-03 18:38:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,819
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17289299
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alycakeisdelish/pseuds/Lady%20Of%20Justice
Summary: One Noxian making his way through the ranks and the growth of his precarious sexual relationship with one of the Lady Du Couteau.





	1. The Strike

**Author's Note:**

> I originally wrote this in 2013. I'm really just slapping a new coat of paint on an old turd here. But it's my turd and I love it. 
> 
> Just a notice for any new LoL players or new readers, this fanfiction takes into account OLD Cassiopeia lore, and the near nonexistent old lore for Darius. This was written before the Shurima event before her lore was changed to fit where it is now. I really like the resolution of the story and I don't plan on changing it anytime soon to fit new shit. I like the old and new Cass lore, but I also like the way I did this story so, it can be a relic of the past. But if you don't remember, or don't know, Cassiopeia's old lore was that her change happened because she promised a Freljordian shaman that she would not tell his secrets, big surprise she did and he cursed her into the form she has now. At least as far as I can remember it. This also does not take into account any new information on Darius either, including his relationship with Quilletta. This shit is all old and all basic af. Like me. Enjoy.  
> Side Note: If you saw this on adultff, hi. It's me. I'm migrating all my stuff from there to here. I might even add chapters, who knows. ENJOY.

"Cassiopeia, I am pleased with your success."

Marcus eyed his daughter as she smiled, the thrill of success and excitement sparkling in her jade eyes, drinking in the praise of her enigmatic father. Although still young, she already was showing vast promise in her chosen field. She was nothing, if not made for spying. He couldn't imagine what she would be able to do as soon as she fully grew into herself; already her form was starting to take an hourglass peak, her hips slowly filling out as her breasts fought to catch up. They were mere handfuls, but she still had a few years yet to mature as far as her physical assets were concerned. It wouldn't matter much with results she was pulling like this. There were benefits to naivete when it came to being a spy. People underestimated you. But there were equal benefits to maturity. He was certain she would utilize both to their maximum. With one daughter mastering blade-craft, the other information, he considered himself the proud father of two strong Noxian children, something he could pat himself on the back for. Children were often stubborn, willful and hard to bring into line. His own fell into their places neatly, happily, almost. He considered himself fortunate. "Do not doubt that I am proud of you, however, there are other matters that also require my attention. Darius will be working with your target for the next several weeks. He will take your report." To her credit, Cassiopeia only looked mildly put out by the fact that she would not be treated to more fatherly praise, a rare enough thing for him to offer. Marcus stood, brushing off non-existent lint from his velvet lapel, “Treat yourself to a bath as well. You look a little… trussed.” He mentioned offhandedly, noting that her normally perfected makeup was slightly smeared. The eyeliner had feathered into a sort of cat-eye and her dark shadow had smudged together, giving her a rather smokey gaze that wasn't entirely unpleasant to look at. Her evening dress looking almost like she’d slept in it before returning home, however, and her hair shared the same bedded look. "Of course, thank you, father." He moved from his shadowy corner of the war room, where he enjoyed lounging like a dark jaguar, purring his commands and roaring his displeasure. Snuffing out his sweet smelling cigar in the nearest ashtray, he stalked past his youngest, pausing to give her a rewarding pat on her bare shoulder and a chaste kiss to the top of her head, before slinking from the room, leaving her to victorious silence.

Placing her hands behind her back she smiled, tossing her dark auburn hair behind her shoulders as she turned around. She had to resist the urge to wiggle in glee. A successful mission and a happy father was more than enough reason to do so. As she contemplated the action, Darius' massive figure stepped through the door, face molded into an eternal displeased frown. Unlike on the battlefield, he was unarmored, but just as broad across the shoulders, and intimidating to look upon. He had to stoop slightly to clear the door without ruffling his rich black hair. Cassiopeia smiled, eyes narrowing decisively as he walked in to take his seat, rustling a couple of papers as he began to ink out the beginnings of a report. It was odd, watching those large hands, who were so much better at killing, simply scrawling words onto paper, too mundane a task. It was strange seeing him outside his natural habitat, like a fish out of water. Quietly, she moved to sit in the seat right next to him, which rewarded her with an apprehensive, sour look from the great warrior. It was thoroughly ignored as she crossed her legs, evening gown hiking up to her thighs. Carefully, Cassiopeia began to play her cards. But this wasn't a game for her father, or for Noxus. It was for her. Darius was the most promising, loyal warrior in Noxus outside of its main generals. Soldiers, common people, and politicians sang his praises day in and day out, their cries only becoming more fervent the more victories he slid onto the table. There would be no better catch for her in the long queue of politicians lining up for her hand, ready to get close to Marcus Du Couteau. It wouldn't do. Instead, she would make her own alliances. Marcus already had the political gain; Cassiopeia would deliver him a warrior and his armies instead. 

Casually, she slid her hand over his knee and slowly up his thigh, gauging his reaction. Darius was already made uncomfortable by her presence, and secondarily by her proximity. Her silence only worked at his nerves, uncertain of what the little snake was thinking. This is why he didn't like women. They were too good at hiding their intentions. At her touch, he went to yank his leg away from the vixen, familiar with the sly approaches of women who, for the most part, only wanted something from him. Exactly like her. Dark eyebrows shot up in surprise as, instead of pulling out of her assumed fragile grip, her claws sank into the flesh of his thigh and she leaned into his side, pressing herself close. "Going somewhere?" she purred, giving him a clever look. He leaned pointedly away, furrowing his brows and grumbling at her heavily. The intelligent glint to her eyes made him wary. "If you aren't going to share your report, Miss Du Couteau, then I'll take my leave." His voice left no room for any other options.

Rolling her eyes, but undeterred, she gave a long sigh and glanced down at the paper crumpled under his large hands, before giving in and starting to divulge all the information she'd been able to milk from her target. He gruffly scratched out the details, hiding any surprise he might have held that she had been able to force so much from the target without spreading those long legs of hers, at least not all the way. He shifted, constantly uncomfortable as she rubbed her hand along his thigh, realizing very quickly how well how those hands could work in her favor if left alone. A favor he didn't particularly want to become. He glanced down, eyeing her viciously as she gazed up at him, jade eyes half-lidded, dark red lips curled in a suggestive smile. His surprise slowly worked away. Indeed, it would be easy to see how she could strip a man of his dignity with a couple of soft whispers and a sultry promise, disgracing themselves in her presence. The strong-willed would be charmed, guiled by her efforts until they made a fatal mistake. The weak would be overwhelmed. 

"Are we done or are you going to keep staring at me?" she wondered softly with a slow wink, the corners of her mouth turning up in a smile. He sighed unhappily, disliking how easily she misread his mental calculations as petty gandering. Looking away he started to shuffle the papers together, letting the pen roll away as he moved to stand. Darius felt like he couldn't exit the room fast enough, the instinctual need to get away from this devilish minx screaming at him. The warning signs were becoming louder. She would only be a distraction. A dangerous distraction. He was halted in his attempt to stand as she quickly moved from her chair, sitting neatly, to straddling his thighs while wrapping her slender arms around his neck. Darius had to admire how snake-like her movements were, smooth and graceful, every action looking as if it had been carefully thought out. "Good. Now perhaps I can have you to myself." she purred. The way she openly ground her hips into his threw him off guard. It was so brazen he was almost stunned into inaction. He had expected petty flirting, suggestive words and teasing innuendos, but for her to go so far as to tease him physically.. It was a step farther than he'd been expecting, and his traitorous body rose to the bait. He wanted to curse. Instead, Darius placed his large hands on her shoulders and pushed her slim body away, forcing her back into the table, her damnable hips away from his. "Get off of me Cassiopeia," he warned firmly, clenching his jaw.

The young woman didn't listen very well and instead reached up to caress his cheek lightly with the tips of her manicured nails, lips pouted. "Don't play coy with me Darius." she murmured, the same clawed hand sliding up into his dark hair. He was rigid in his seat, determined not to sway. She pressed her lips to the jugular vein in his neck, teeth just barely grazing his skin. He willed his heartbeat to stay steady so that she couldn't feel the thrumming of his blood. "I'm just a woman that knows what she wants." Her free hand moved to the front of his pants, his horrid male body further betraying him by rising in hunger for the touch. "I want this, And I know that you do too." she purred like a kitten against his skin, grinning at the mild look of shock that crossed his face. The harlot. He should have known in secret she was less than a lady, how could she be? Cass chuckled and took his shock as an opportunity to press closer to him, sliding her hand from his hair and down his chest, her other tugging at the buckle of his pants. "You act as if you've never been propositioned by a woman before. You think yourself above taking a bite of unsoiled fruit?" she asked softly in his ear, wrapping her small hand around his exposed length, which was starting to throb lightly; whether from her actions or his struggling defiance was yet to be seen. He rumbled dangerously at her, a warning, squeezing her shoulders tightly and resisting the urge to buck his hips up into her small hand. She was trying to get a rise out of him, and it was working, damn her. His teeth ground together as he tried to remove her from his person once more, without simply grabbing her by the thighs and tossing her across the room. If her looks hadn't been so important, he would have simply done so. The last thing he wanted was Marcus bringing his wrath on top of his head because he'd injured a valuable spy, and his daughter no less. The thought of explaining why he simply didn't just take what was being offered gave him a headache. Cassiopeia's warm tongue brushed against his earlobe as she shifted her hips again, moving to rub her damp center against his thickening length, moaning loudly in anticipation of the kill. The motion jolted him from his thoughts and he sourly realized he shouldn't have been surprised by the fact that she was wearing almost nothing under that dress. A struggling groan from Darius gave her the illusion of victory.

Cassiopeia's pleasure was quickly interrupted as he dropped his hands from her shoulders. Grabbing her hips he picked her bodily up off of him, neverminding her instinct to struggle, her hands moving to his arms for balance. He stood, his chair making a loud racket as it fell backwards, clattering to the floor as he turned her around, shoving her heavily against the long war table. He forced her chest into the cool wood with a hard hand. Yanking up her dress he heard the satisfying snap of ripping seams, delicate buttons scattering in a _tip, tip, tip_ across the floor.. and better yet, a surprised screech from his newfound prey. With a quick pop, he landed a thick hand on the soft flesh of her rear, rewarding him with a soft yelp from her ruby lips. "D-Darius!" she protested lightly, having not anticipated his rather alarming and sudden response. She was supposed to be the one in control of the situation, not him. Cassiopeia had not anticipated his counter-attack. A grave mistake. Darius made a gruff noise, reaching down to stroke his throbbing cock, forcing his painfully aroused length to full size, keeping his other hand hard on the back of her spine, making sure she didn't dare move. "Get your hand off of me!" she demanded adamantly, wiggling under his hold, attempting to squeeze away from him. She was stopped as he took his hand from his own flesh, reaching to run his calloused fingers along her wet folds, searching for her sensitive nub of flesh. He knew he'd found it when she gave a loud, surprised squeak, her legs opening further for him in reflex. Perfect. He took the invitation offered and quickly shoved two fingers deep into her slick passage, forcing a cry from her lips; “You are quite demanding for an inexperienced whore.” He growled, surprised when his digits met resistance within her deliciously snug tunnel. So she’d been truthful when teasing him with her _'unsoiled fruit'_. And here he'd thought it had just been another poor ploy. One black brow quirked and he pumped his fingers into her at a steady rate, forcing mewls and moans from her pretty lips. His words, however, gave her back some vocal control. "I am not a whore.” She snapped, and he could hear the insolence in her voice, the offended note. He'd hit a nerve. It nearly forced a chuckle from his chest. "Could have fooled me. How many others turned you down?” he demanded to know, pulling his fingers free and giving her little nub a harsh pinch, her body convulsing in pleasure, a strangled cry parting her lips.

“None! I offered to no one else.” She panted between her words, cheeks turning red as she attempted to push her torso up off the table to turn and look at him. Darius did not allow it, picking up the hand on her back only to shove between her shoulders, forcing her back into the table, her nails digging long pale marks into the stained wood. He wasn't sure if he believed her, but for the moment, it mattered very little. “Do not move.” He demanded, sliding his hand up her shoulders to tangle his fingers into her thick auburn hair, forcing her head against the table. A little whimper left her lips as she attempted to appeal to him with her soft, pathetic noises. He ignored her, hand wrapped around himself as he began rubbing along her damp, clever slit, “You wondered if I was too good for a virgin's body, and I'm certainly not. A man rarely is. However, I intend to make sure that no one ever mistakes you for what you really are again.” He stated simply, a cursory warning of what he was going to do to her. Before she could ask what he meant, he shoved himself between her silken folds, picking her head up by the hair, other hand clinging tightly to her hips; he did not move slowly, nor gently, instead deciding to hilt deep into her snug passage, stealing her fragile innocence in one fell swoop. Cassiopeia’s scream of pain pleased him more than he thought it should have, and he held her close as she wriggled and tried to hunch away from the pain. Darius' hold did not waver. He did not plan on releasing her, grip tight on her hair as he thrust heavily against her struggles, using her as leverage for his pounding. The slapping of their flesh accompanied the pleasing painful whimpers and grunts she was pushing out every moment that he spent invading her defiled body.

“What’s the matter? I thought you wanted this.” He growled, unable to resist teasing her as he released her hair, nearly laughing as the distinctive sound of her cursing reached his ear. He had to give it to her, she was quite creative. Leaning over her back slightly, he reached around her waist, rough fingers once more seeking out her hidden nub, roughly pinching and grinding against it once located. The instant source of pleasure had her choking on moans instead of curses as she attempted not to release, not wanting to show that she might actually be enjoying the displeasing treatment. It’s not what she'd intended at all. She’d wanted to take him, make him moan her name and beg her for the relief she could give. She wanted to ride him like those big beautiful stallions her father liked to keep in his stables, culling his ornery resistance with her clever hands. Cassiopeia was always in control, and the loss of it was sore. She felt weak, having underestimated him. Her pride had taken a blow. She was getting what she wanted, she couldn't deny it, but it had not been the way she'd wanted it.

“Say my name Cass.” He demanded, rocking his hips into her as he assaulted her sensitive flesh, his movements slowly starting to rock the table he had forced her over. The young spy shook her head, choking out a defiant mewl as pleasure flooded her system; even the feel of him inside of her was starting to feel deliciously good, her walls clenching and quivering around him. “Over my d-dead body.” She hissed, turning her head to glare at him, one last bastion of defiance. Darius let go of her hips and immediately grabbed her hair once more, shoving her face back into the table as he arched himself over her, pumping more roughly into her soft folds. His other hand never left her clit, pinching it hard as he growled in her ear. “Say it. Tell me, who do you belong to?” He snapped, slamming his hips into her own, forcing the table a couple of inches forward with a loud scrape. The young woman gasped, a loud cry slipping past her lips, quickly followed by his name. “D-darius! Fuck you Darius!” she cried loudly, tilting her head back into the hard grip of his hand. Pleased by this, despite her ornery backlash, he continued with his hard, slamming pace, moving the table forward every couple of thrusts. “Again. Scream it.” He demanded, tilting his head back as he allowed himself a moment to savor her. Cassiopeia wasn't a total liar. She'd been untouched, that was for sure, her tight walls closing around him like a vice, attempting to milk him of everything he could give her, and Darius was not one to discredit the wonderful act of defiling a maid, especially one as smug as she.

Cassiopeia refused at first teeth biting into her bottom lip sharply, but with his constant abuse of her tiny nub and the steady and thorough fucking, she nearly drowned in the pleasure of the orgasm that rocked her body, sending her into shuddering convulsions. She broke, and she screamed. Screamed his name like a harpy, her nails dragging against the wood, scarring it. Her body suddenly worked against him pliantly, instead of defiant, and he groaned, a little disappointed that he seemed to have over-worked her sensitivity. Darius would have much rather have left her wanting, unsatisfied, but it didn't matter either way. She would be well and thoroughly ruined.

"Good.." he purred lowly, bucking his hips into hers, pressing his flesh flush into her own a few more times before he pulled away, spreading her slick lips wide as he began to stroke himself, wet with her juices. He gave a few low grunts, savoring the pleasure for a few moments before, with a sigh, he released himself onto her flesh. Cassiopeia cursed him half-heartedly but didn't move, still dazed and quivering, legs weak, body like jello. Giving the curve of her rear a pat, he brushed himself off on her thigh before he pulled up his trousers, slowly buckling them into place. Picking up the report that had scattered beside her he walked out of the room, leaving her alone and spread for whomever else to walk in and find her.


	2. The Promotion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Darius is promoted to The Hand of Noxus. An obligatory dinner is planned. He celebrates the occasion with his partner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter, as well as the rest of the story, is short. It's a blurb, a blip in the radar of my life in 2013. I'm sorry I didn't give the in-depth character rundowns that they probably deserve and I won't bother doing so now. The entire story is just a peek into the lives I imagine they lead. Glimpsing through the window, as it were.  
> Also, there's sex.

Cassiopeia tried to bite her lip, sharp enough to draw blood in an attempt to heed Darius' commands to be silent. It was no use, however, as his hips slammed into her again, ripping the moans from her throat. Growling in displeasure, he reached around to clamp his hand over her mouth, muffling her seductive noises as he threw himself into her from behind, the other hand securing the skirts of her dress at her hips, making sure to keep them well out of his way.

Darius had warned her earlier that evening against the skin-tight gown, the color of fresh blood. She'd waved a number of titillating dresses in front of his face, all colors of the rainbow as they were getting ready for his dinner party. He cared not for any of them, as he generally cared little about what she wore. She was her own woman with her own tastes, and he didn't have the time, nor patience to dictate her wardrobe. None of her outfits compared to his preference of seeing her in nothing at all anyway. But as soon as she'd seen how the sinful red piece had held his gaze if only for a moment, her expression changed dangerously. Before she could say a word, he'd cut her off. "Not that one." His voice was an intimidating rumble, a command that he might use on an officer instead of his partner. The last thing he needed was to be distracted the entire night by her, lest he ruin the party for his own guests. His recent promotion to Hand of Noxus obviously required some sort of political party to permanently set his status before the high class. He'd insisted against it, of course, but he might as well have been talking to thin air. With the insistence of all the generals, and Cassiopeia taking the reins on the planning, there was not much he could have done to stop the ball once it had started rolling. On the battlefield he held command, but the battlefield of politics was her domain, and she ruled it without questions, even from him. It seemed as though he'd been talking to thin air when he'd demanded she not wear the dress either. She'd strut out to him like a peacock in the summertime as he waited in a dim corridor, watching the party. Everyone talking and sipping wine, waiting for his arrival, while he waited for hers. The smug look on her face was almost enough to make him strike her. Arrogant, misbehaving whore. Snatching her wrist he'd jerked her close and frowned, brows furrowed. "Your ears must be as full of cotton as your head." But even as he said it, his arm had wrapped around her, hand sliding over her pert backside, appreciating the look and the feel of her smaller body against his larger one. His anger did nothing to her satisfied smile. His anger never did anything to her anymore. Darius felt his muscles rolling. That dress on her could drop the hardest man to his knees. Cassiopeia bat her thick lashes innocently at him, "General, perhaps you should loosen up before your arrival. You seem too tense." she teased, her body curling into his, touching every spot she knew pressed his buttons. He was loath to admit that she was right. He was tense, in more ways than just the obvious effect she had on him. Saying nothing, he slid his hand into her hair, and drug her into the next room, cursing her under his breath as she giggled. 

Cassiopeia's moans now silenced behind his hand, he picked up his pace, pushing her farther into the surface of the desk, forcing her knee up onto the edge. The desk that had once stood in the center of the room, now pushed against the nearest wall. The smug bitch was too snug, and the desk offered little purchase against the marble floors, he'd had to shove it against the wall to get the leverage he wanted; and now he was buried to the hilt in her, thrusting with as much wild abandon as he'd allow himself. Cass talked a big game, but it only took the slightest pets and touches to have her melting for him, and her noisiness had disrupted his singleminded rhythm. The last thing he wanted was to be caught fucking the youngest Du Couteau sister senseless when he was _supposed_ to be whooing guests and making humble over his promotion. He was trying to finish as quickly as possible.

Now fully back on track, the loud smacking of his hips pounding into her taut skin filled the room, along with his quiet grunts and groans. He nearly shouted a curse however when Cassiopeia's sharp teeth sank into his hand as her body convulsed, her sly walls squeezing around him tightly. Growling and pulling away, still standing hard, he flipped her over roughly and backhanded her, bringing a soft gasp from her lips and a look of shock to her face. It was a look more of surprise than pain, his strength curbed to catch her attention more than to punish her. Darius grabbed her bare hips and pulled her close, leaning over to clamp his hand over her mouth again, other hand ripping down the front of her dress, exposing her chest. "Careful where you set those teeth, snake." he growled, moving his hand for a moment to press his lips roughly against hers. Manicured nails found their way into his hair, pulling him in as he used his free hands to reposition himself at her sweltering heat, before grabbing handfuls of her breasts and forcing himself back into her. Cassiopeia's long legs wrapped around his broad waist locking him close, and he parted from her mouth clamping his hand back over it as he thrust frantically, filling the room with wet slaps and groans once more.

The young Du Couteau could already feel the bruises forming on her thighs, but she only goaded him on with her body, taking everything he could give her, trying to get him to give in and release. She'd come a long way since their first tryst. From having a wounded ego to being a willing participant. She'd had other men after him, but he had done what he'd set out to do. He ruined her. Cassiopeia found herself frustrated to the core with every partner she took, until she wandered back to him, reluctant, but so full of sexual tension she couldn't stand it. It had been worth it, however. Worth the tiny sting to her pride to tease him without fear, and to have him when she chose, to know that she belonged to him as much as he belonged to her. He gave her all of himself, his virtues and his vices, nothing held back, and he expected nothing less in return. She stood at his left side, fought for him in the political war front, eased his wounds and warmed his bed. He, in turn, stood behind her in everything. His voice joined hers in decisions of war, especially when they were good, he assisted her with contracts, pushed her agendas on the field, and gave her insight. He was the might to her guile.

Her eager body bucked against his own and tensed as she found herself overwhelmed once more. Making damn sure that she didn't bite him again, she wailed into his palm, muffling her cries of delight. He continued thrusting, once, twice, three times, _hard_ , making her shake as he gave a loud sigh and thrust his seed deep inside her quivering folds. Darius stood for a moment, relaxing all of his weight on her and the desk, leaning into her hand as it ran gently through his volcanic black hair, tinged with the slightest hints of grey. They filled the air with panting, and silent, unspoken conversation. When his rest was over, he pulled away, and out of her. Grabbing a couple of napkins from the small box on the desk, he cleaned himself and straightened his trousers, sliding a hand through his tousled hair. Grabbing the box and tossing it onto her exposed chest, he cleared his throat and turned away, tugging at his coat as if nothing had happened. As if he could never be tempted by something as foolish as mortal desire. "Get cleaned up. I expect you beside me at dinner." he rumbled, his offering of a spot at his left hand the closest to an affectionate gesture as he could go. Departing the room, he made sure there was a guard standing watch before immersing himself finally into the crowd.

Of course, she was right, in the end. He felt more at ease than he had been all night.


End file.
